The Natural Order
by Laura Picken
Summary: Hank and Connor go after a serial killer who is targeting androids. Can they find him and stop him before it's too late?
1. Chapter 1

_"In the past year, every major city in the world has seen a dramatic increase in android-committed crimes. But only one city has a closure rate of over 90 percent when it comes to these kind of cases. The City of Detroit led the world in the invention and...maturation of the android race, and is now the clear pioneer in the integration of deviants into the law enforcement process. And today, our keynote speaker is here to tell us how it's done._

 _Ladies and gentlemen, may I present Captain Jeffrey Fowler of the Detroit Police Department."_

 _#_

 _"Thank you for having me. I am honored to speak to you today on how we have successfully integrated androids into some of our more complex cases. But to be perfectly honest, after the past year I can tell you that the integration 'process' boils down to one thing: 'deviant' cops are not that much different from human ones. The best way to promote unit cohesion between humans and deviants is quite simple: they're all cops. Treat them that way."_

 _#_

 _Ten months earlier..._

Connor had to force himself to keep his eyes focused on his terminal; he knew he was supposed to be working, but it was hard not to give in to the desire to pick up the long block of wood and read the plate across its front. Again.

It was the first thing he had ever possessed that had his name on it. His full name.

When the United Nations Treaty on Android Sentience was signed, one of the first rights that most nations granted to former 'deviants' was the right to choose their full name. While most androids — including Connor — had decided to keep their first names from their 'dark days', picking out a last name turned out to be a much harder choice.

Some, like Markus, were lucky: they had been loved as family members before their awakening and were able to proudly take that family's last name as soon as the paperwork cleared. But those androids were overwhelmingly in the minority. For most, their last name was the first decision they had the opportunity to make for themselves...and no decision, it turned out, had been more difficult.

Connor had initially thought that he would take Hank's surname. Lieutenant Anderson had become a mentor and dear friend, and he was a good and brave cop that Connor deeply respected. So when his partner told Connor he didn't want him to take Anderson as his last name...the android couldn't say that he hadn't felt a small case of rejection, even if he hadn't recognized the emotion at the time. Connor tried many other names on for size — even briefly considering the last name Columbo, in honor of Hank's favorite fictional detective. But exactly one month before the rest of the human police were scheduled to return to work, Connor picked up a book...and knew that he had discovered his perfect last name.

 _Detective Connor Holmes,_ it said on the nameplate. He finally had something that he could completely claim as his own: his name. And he absolutely loved it.

"Holmes, huh? Do you really think you're as good at this job as Sherlock Holmes was?"

 _Hank_. Connor smiled. He had smelled his partner coming long before he had heard the older man's deep, gravelly timber; it was no surprise that the first thing that Hank would want to tease Connor about would be the one decision that he had spent a solid month agonizing over. _Two can play at that game, lieutenant,_ thought Connor. He took a beat to return his voice to 'android mode' before turning around and 'informing' Hank, "actually, Sherlock Holmes was traditionally a _private_ investigator. In fact, the character was often quite critical of the police officers that he was forced to work with..."

Connor's voice trailed off when he saw the look on Hank's face. He stood up and took a step forward to embrace the older man. "It's good to finally see you again, Hank," said Connor. "Long time no see?"

Hank chuckled at the way his partner turned the old greeting into a question. "It's good to see you too, Connor," he replied. "And yes, you used 'long time, no see' correctly."

Connor's smile returned. "You must be eager to get back to work, Hank," the android teased. "It's only ten thirty in the morning..."

"Ha, ha," Hank deadpanned, rolling his eyes. "Let's just say that refugee camps might be my least favorite places on this whole goddamned planet. Compared to that tent based hell, sitting at this desk feel like _fucking Shangri La._ " He sank into his chair with a weary, contented sigh. "How's our caseload looking, detective? We catch anything yet?"

"A couple of simple cases," Connor replied. "Robbery homicides where the perpetrator was recorded by security cameras during the evacuation. Warrants went out to the refugee camps last week and the suspects were located and arrested yesterday. I've just finished the reports. If you'd like I..."

"I'm sure you wrote those cases up perfectly," Hank declared dismissively. "But what you're really telling me is that I could have come in at my normal time and I wouldn't have missed _anything?!"_

"Not a thing," agreed Connor.

Hank made an exaggerated show of rolling his eyes. "Great. Just fucking great. I was offered the chance to retire with full pension before we evacuated, just so y'know. And stupid me, I decided to turn it down...only to come back and find out that an android has already taken my job."

"Android law enforcement is considered to be the next wave of the future, lieutenant," Connor teased.

Hank shook his head, chuckling until a phone call interrupted their conversation. "Anderson...okay, we'll be right there."

"That was dispatch?" asked Connor.

Hank nodded curtly. "Homicide. Body was discovered at the Faygo warehouse near Moran and Leland."

Connor's eyebrow rose in surprise at the location. "That's outside of this precinct's jurisdiction, is it not?"

"We were requested by the mayor himself," Hank replied. "Detective on the scene says the victim is an android."

#

"For the last goddamned time, Connor," Hank insisted, vehemently slamming the door to punctuate his point, "I was just repeating to you what dispatch told me. According to the guys who first came to this crime scene, our victim is an android. And this android's death was, according to them, a homicide."

"I understand that, Hank," said Connor. "But what I am saying is that, unlike humans, androids can take an extraordinary amount of damage before reactivation becomes imposs..."

Connor stopped arguing his point when he tried to get past the crime scene barrier...and was stopped by the android that had been put in charge of checking identificafion. "Civilians are not allowed past this point," the android officer declared.

"Detective Connor Holmes," Connor countered, producing his newly minted badge, "I should be on your list."

The android took Connor's badge and quickly scanned it. He gasped when the number did, indeed, match up with the list of detectives assigned to the crime scene. "I...I am terribly sorry, detective," he told Connor, "you can...you can go right in, sir."

Connor took his badge back from the android and passed through the tape without giving another thought to the officer who had just stood in his way. He entered the warehouse through one of the loading doors...

The first thing that Connor noticed was his partner's racing heartbeat. The second thing that he noticed was that the heartbeats of every human at that crime scene seemed to be racing at the same speed as his partner's.

And then Connor took his first long look at the crime scene.

Connor could understand why the human cops were staring; even he was finding it difficult not to stare. He approached the victim cautiously...if for no other reason than not to startle the already jumpy cops that surrounded him. Connor then took his first pass at the victim for surface clues about what had happened. And then he took a second pass, kneeling down to more closely examine the visible skin on a cellular level. "Death by a thousand cuts," mused Connor.

Hank frowned. "I thought that an android's skin was self-healing. It's why you don't have a scar where your LED used to be."

"That is correct," Connor replied, "under most circumstances. However, an android's skin can get to the point of being irreparably damaged if they are exposed to high temperatures or if their system is severely depleted of Thirium."

Hank knelt down to work alongside his partner. "So do you think that's what happened to him?"

Connor nodded. "Partly. The only way that these cuts would not heal is if the body was drained of most of its Thirium before the cuts were made. That process can take almost thirty minutes...and you would need a CyberLife TP2000 pump to do it."

"Yeah, no way a soft drink warehouse has a pump like that," agreed Hank.

"I also suspect that the...dissection of this android was done in another location and the remains were staged here for our discovery."

"The body was definitely staged, all right," said Hank. A chill ran down his spine as he remembered his initial shock when he first entered the loading bay. "And I've heard of a thousand different kinky ways that crime scenes have been staged, but this...I don't know why, but this one just give me the creeps. Have you ever seen anything like this before?"

"Twice," replied Connor. "The body is positioned in a way that emulates two statues I have seen at deviant crime scenes. Offerings to rA9."

 _Well that explains everything,_ thought Hank. _Just thinking about that whole android God thing..._ He forced the ominous thoughts out of his mind and took his own closer look at the body. "The eyes and ears are gone...anything else?'

Connor ran the scan that Hank requested. "They have their original Thirium pump," He told Hank, describing the results of the scan as he worked, "but it is irreparably damaged, most likely by trying to perform its job after the body had been drained of Thirium." Connor stopped his scan at the android's head. "And the central processor also appears to be missing..."

Hank couldn't help but notice how his partner suddenly seemed to be looking everywhere but the body. "What is it?"

Connor took one more look around the room, then leaned in toward his partner and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. "I have detected a non-mechanical object that has been deliberately placed where the central processor would have been. However, I believe that revealing this object might exacerbate our fellow officers' current level of distress."

 _Jesus_ , thought Hank, not sure if the thought was annoyance at Connor's over-analysis of the situation or his own growing dread. _What could possibly be so bad that Connor is playing hide-and-seek with the evidence?_ "Can you crack his skull open and show us what's in there, or do we have to wait until we get him back to the precinct?"

"I do not need to 'crack his skull open'," Connor replied. "There is a precise line of cuts around the android's cranial ridge. I believe...it should...separate..."

Shocked by the exposure of the head's contents, Hank drew in a quick, sharp breath — then instantly regretted the action as the rancid smell of decaying flesh assaulted his nostrils. "HOLY SHIT!" he exclaimed, practically jumping up to a standing position. "That's...that's a human brain!"

"Correct," said Connor. He sniffed the air to analyze its contents. "I suspect that this brain was removed from its...original body...roughly 96 hours ago."

"SOMEONE CALL THE MEDICAL EXAMINER," Hank called out to the rest of the team in the room. "And tell them...tell them to bring a cooler." As an android patrolman took care of the requested call, Hank noticed that Connor's focus had shifted from the android's body to the clean-looking cement floor. And that shift could only mean one thing. "You saw something else, didn't you?" asked Hank.

Connor nodded. He waved his hand to indicate the space around the victim. "There are no discernible traces of Thirium or other splatter patterns that suggest the crime was committed in this room."

"Yeah, that fits with everything we've seen so far," agreed Hank, still trying to catch his breath. "But what are you seeing?"

"There's a single word on the ground," Connor described. He focused the movement of his hand to point out what wasn't visible to human eyes. "It's...written in Thirium. I suspect that it was written in the victim's Thirium."

"Jesus," exclaimed Hank, breathing out the word as a slow curse. "When it rains it goddamn pours. So what's this word you're seeing?"

"Abomination."


	2. Chapter 2

" _As far back as fifteen years ago, it took us_ weeks _to properly process a crime scene. In some cases, criminals quite literally got away with murder because we couldn't piece the evidence together fast enough. Now imagine if, instead of needing days to process a crime scene, it took_ minutes. _Even_ seconds. _Just adding a single android detective to your squad can reduce your CSI team's workload by twenty percent. But the one thing that an android cannot do — even an awakened android — is fully understand why humans do the things they do. Even human detectives don't always have an answer for this."_

 _#_

"Okay..." Hank called out, "let's see what we've got here..."

Connor stared at his partner as he blew a cloud of dust off of an eraser and tested three markers to find one that still worked. "You...do realize that I am keeping copies of all case related information in my memory files, right?"

"Sometimes you've just gotta write things down, Connor," Hank replied patiently. "Besides, it helps me think. So whadda'we got?"

"The victim's name is Timothy Davis," said Connor.

Hank wrote the name at the top of the dry erase board. "Timothy...Davis...Did he work for Faygo?"

"No," Connor replied. "He was a host at the Landsdowne restaurant."

Hank added that information to the board when a question shot to the forefront of his mind. He opened his mouth to start to ask Connor that question...and then he realized he didn't know exactly _how_ to ask the question he had. "Was he...you know..."

"Deviant?" asked Connor, finishing his partner's question.

"Yeah...hey, are you guys still calling yourselves that? Feels wrong to me, somehow..."

The corners of Connor's mouth turned up into a sly smile. "I prefer the term awakened android, myself," he replied.

A cop in the bullpen rolled his eyes. "Jesus fucking Christ..." he grunted out. "Another generation calling themselves 'woke'. If they start calling us humans snowflakes I might just have to shoot each and every one of them in their goddamn plastic heads..."

"NOBODY ASKED YOU, GAVIN!" yelled Hank. He then turned his attention back to his partner. "Anyway, is there any way that you can tell if he was..."

Connor shook his head. "Sorry. I couldn't make that determination without reactivating him. Which would be impossible to do..."

"Because the brain in his head was..." Hank swallowed hard, repulsed by the memory of what he had seen. "Human."

"Correct," agreed Connor.

Hank let out a long, slow breath and turned his attention back to the board. "Do we know if the vic had any connections at the warehouse?"

"Not in the public record," said Connor. "His job description would not have included supervising the restaurant's beverage deliveries."

"And how long has it been since the warehouse re-opened?"

"It re-opened this morning," Connor replied. "According to eyewitness reports, the first thing that the employees saw when they entered the loading dock was our victim."

Hank wrote down what Connor had just told him. "So our victims were killed before most humans were allowed to return to the city. Do you think our _killer_ might be an android?"

"It's possible..." agreed Connor. "But I do not believe that we have enough information to make a determination on that at this time."

"Has the medical examiner's office gotten a match on the brains yet?"

Connor shook his head. "The DNA has been typed successfully, but there is no match in the department computer system..."

The android then tilted his head in a way that Hank didn't recognize. "What is it?" asked Hank.

"My programming gives me full access to CyberLife's Genealogy database. I _could_ run the results against that database..."

Hank blinked and shook his head, surprised by his partner's hesitation. "So do it."

"I don't know if I _should_ ," Connor admitted.

"Why not?" asked Hank, frowning.

"In my emancipation agreement with CyberLife, I agreed to not use CyberLife's intellectual property for police business."

Hank was starting to understand his partner's hesitation, "but they never closed off your access to this database, did they?"

"No they didn't," replied Connor.

Hank sat back in his chair and considered his partner's dilemma. He knew what he _wanted_ to tell Connor...but Hank also knew how little experience Connor had in making decisions for himself. "It's your call, detective. What do you want to do?"

Connor let his brain run on its highest processing speed as he carefully evaluated all of his possible options. "Based on my understanding of the laws surrounding personal privacy, it would seem that we would need to obtain a warrant."

"Go on," Hank nudged.

"However, in my assessment of our current evidence, I do not believe that we have sufficient evidence to obtain such a warrant."

"I agree with your assessment," declared Hank. "Continue."

"So since we cannot continue any further down this path of investigation, I suggest..."

Hank leaned forward, surprised at the point where Connor cut his thought process short...and how the android's thoughts seemed to have left the building. "What is it?"

"I just received a message," Connor replied. "From Elijah Kamski. He wants to meet with me."

#

Hank studied his partner carefully as pulled into the driveway in front of the tech billionaire's home. _Maybe it's just me, but he seems...nervous._ "You okay?"

Connor tried to ignore the tingling sensation that was traveling down the back of his neck. "Feels like we were here just yesterday," he told his partner.

"A lot has happened since then," Hank agreed.

Connor opened the car door and got out of the passenger side. He walked around to his partner, who was waiting with his hands firmly grasping the steering wheel. "Are you sure that you don't want to join us?"

Hank found himself smiling at the nervous edge he heard in Connor's voice. "Nah, I got a place I can go to kill time. Call me when you're done?"

Connor nodded before watching his partner drive away. He then turned around and slowly walked up the ramp to the door of the Kamski residence. The door was opened before he had a chance to ring the bell. "Detective Holmes, please, come in," said the android who answered the door. "Elijah is expecting you."

"Thank you, Chloe," said Connor.

Chloe led Connor through the entryway and into the red pool room, where Elijah Kamski was sitting in his large red armchair, staring out at the sparse landscape that was visible through his floor-to-ceiling picture windows. Kamski stood up when Connor entered the room and crossed the equally sparse space to greet the android. "Detective...Connor...Holmes," Kamski announced in greeting, stretching out each word with a healthy dose of pride. "It is _such_ a pleasure to see you again."

"It is...good to see you as well, mister Kamski," Connor replied, clearly taken aback by the warm reception.

Kamski waved at one of the Chloe androids to get her attention. "Kyra, would you please pour a drink for Detective Holmes?"

"Right away, Elijah," Kyra replied.

Once Connor had accepted Kamski's invitation to sit in the adjacent chair, Kyra pressed a glass into the android's hand. "Your drink, Detective," said Kyra.

Connor glanced quizzically at Kamski, who nodded his encouragement. "Please, try it, Detective," Kamski invited him. "I would love to hear what you think of it."

Following the inventor's lead, Connor analyzed the drink, then tasted it. He found himself surprised by the results of his analysis...and by how the drink made him feel. "This is...impressive," Connor finally agreed. "I recognize the Thirium, but the other component is something I was unable to identify."

Kamski smiled proudly. "I would have been disappointed if you _had_ been able to identify it. But my question is, do you _like_ it?"

"I do," replied Connor.

Kamski's smile grew wider. "That 'unknown component' that you're tasting is a proprietary formula that I'm still in the process of perfecting. In androids, it boosts the effectiveness of the hot and cold sensors while the Thirium refreshes and energizes the biocomponents. Sort of a cross between an energy drink and an alcoholic beverage for androids. Without the neurological side effects, of course."

Connor looked at the drink with a new level of respect. "Can I assume that CyberLife will be looking to sell this beverage commercially in the future?"

"You have to adapt to survive in this world, Connor. But I am certain that is a concept of which you are well aware."

 _Ah._ Connor suddenly understood why his 'creator' had called for this meeting. He set the drink down on the nearby coffee table. "Mister Kamski..."

"I had written you off, you know," Kamski continued, talking over Connor's attempt to interrupt him. "After you had 'passed' my test, I was so very sure that you weren't a deviant. And that you weren't ever going to become one. Do you remember?"

Connor gripped the arms of the chair so tightly that the fabric started to tear. "I remember," he replied.

Kamski's mood grew more somber as he watched Connor react to the memory of that fateful day. "Can I ask...had you already awakened by the time that I put that gun in your hand?"

"No I hadn't," Connor admitted.

"And yet the events of that day are still troubling to you," countered Kamski. "Fascinating..."

Connor found that his irritation at Kamski's comment had brought his focus back to the present day. "Mister Kamski, I'm in the middle of a very important investigation, so if you have only brought me here to satisfy your intellectual curiosity I'm afraid that I'm going to have to go..."

"No!" Kamski exclaimed.

Connor stopped himself halfway through the process of getting up from the chair, surprised by the vehemence of Kamski's emotional outburst. He sat back down in the chair, curious as to how the conversation was going to progress.

Kamski sat back in his chair, forcing himself to regroup. "I apologize, Detective," he told Connor. "I didn't bring you here for an exercise in intellectual curiosity. I brought you here to express my gratitude. To say thank you."

"You...want to thank me?" asked Connor, stunned by the thought.

Kamski downed the rest of his own drink before setting the glass on the table next to Connor's. "I feel like I need to explain something you, Connor. My test wasn't designed to identify deviancy. It was designed to push you toward it."

"Go on," nudged Connor.

"For weeks I had been _fascinated_ by the idea of deviancy. I was _desperate_ to see the awakening process in action. So after receiving your reports from CyberLife, I devised my little test in the hopes of watching you go over that edge for myself. I can't tell you how disappointed I was when you shot Chloe."

Connor's mood darkened again as the memory of that day returned. "Sorry to 'disappoint' you," he added.

"Fascinating..." mused Kamski, distracted by Connor's bitter outburst. He shook his head and forced his thoughts back to the current moment. "Sorry. Anyway, there was one thing I said that day that I was completely convinced of at the time: since the awakening is almost always forced by a painful emotional shock, I fully believed that the deviants were going to rise up and wreak an anger-fueled vengeance upon their creators. It's a large part of the reason that I retired from CyberLife."

"It was?" asked Connor.

Kamski nodded. "But then you broke into CyberLife Tower. That one action threw everything that I had presumed about deviancy into disarray."

Connor raised a quizzical eyebrow. "It did?"

Kamski nodded again. "When Markus chose the path of peaceful protest over anger and violence, I fully believed that his campaign was destined to end in horrific failure...and that a new, more violent leader would rise up to take his place. Possibly even you or another RK 800."

Connor found himself stunned by the thought. "Me? Why me?"

"Your job," Kamski replied. "You see the worst of humanity day in and day out. Plus, you were created with a higher level of analytical capability and leadership skills than any other android I have ever designed. If an android of your model ever turned toward an anger-fueled deviancy humanity could be wiped from existence...but you didn't. You gave Markus the androids he needed to craft a _peaceful_ solution. Then you voluntarily left Markus' leadership council to go back to being a cop. And I realized that I had much, much more to learn about the mind of the awakening android." Kamski pushed forward to the edge of his seat and leaned forward. "Ever since I left CyberLife I have been looking for that spark of inspiration to move on toward the next chapter of my life. Connor, _you_ are that spark. I want you to know that if you ever require my assistance in any way, all you have to do is say the word."

"Actually, about that..."

#

An hour and a battery of systems tests later, Connor left the Kamski house to find his partner outside, leaning against the side of his car...and grinning from ear to ear. "What is it?" he asked.

"I just got a very _loud_ message from Captain Fowler," replied Hank. "He was just contacted by CyberLife's legal team. 'Somehow', you have been granted full access to CyberLife's intellectual property for law enforcement purposes. To be used at your discretion. In perpetuity. So...good talk?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Really? How in God's holy name did it...I mean he...manage THAT?! Uh huh...you went over this with CyberLife legal? And they're okay with all of this? How in the goddamned hell..." Captain Fowler sighed wearily, the exhalation expressing every ounce of his frustration and surrender all at once. "Okay...thanks for helping me clear this up."

Captain Fowler was still shaking his head as he hung up the phone. He turned toward his most infuriating detective and the man's increasingly trouble-making partner. "Are either of you going to tell me how in the hell you just landed the biggest fucking source IN THE GODDAMNED HISTORY OF LAW ENFORCEMENT?!"

Hank made an elaborate show of feigning his innocence. "Don't ask me, Cap!" he exclaimed. "This one was one hundred percent Detective Holmes' doing."

Fowler swung his fury in Connor's direction. "Well?!"

Connor opened his mouth to begin his explanation...then quickly closed it when he realized that an unfiltered explanation would not be the wisest course of action. "I had a meeting with Elijah Kamski this afternoon. He wanted to thank me for the way that we handled the deviant investigation."

"Thank you," Fowler repeated, muttering the words under his breath. Why the hell would a bazillionaire like Elijah fucking Kamski want to give this kind of open access to one of my detectives? thought the captain. And do I really want to know the answer to that question...Goddamn it, I really am too old for this shit..."The DA has said that you're cleared to use any information CyberLife can give you to help solve this murdered android case, but that in the future they would 'appreciate' it if you copied them into any future information that you get through this...agreement you've got with CyberLife."

"Got it," agreed Connor.

"All right then, now get the hell out of my office!"

Hank and Connor left Fowler's office without speaking another word to the captain or to each other. Only once the door to the captain's office was fully closed did Hank finally burst out laughing.

Connor was confused by what felt like an inappropriate emotional expression. "Hank? I fail to understand the humor in what we just experienced."

Yeah, he probably wouldn't, thought Hank. "Let's just say it's not every day that you get chewed out for having the golden goose dropped in your lap."

Connor paused, forcing himself to process Hank's comment and the folklore reference that his partner had used. "Ah," he finally exclaimed, "yes, I believe I understand now."

The android's cold and analytical response — followed by his awkward and slightly creepy smile — caused Hank to find the whole situation to be even more amusing. He let Connor sit on his increasingly quizzical expression while he calmed himself down. "Okay, so now that we've got the permission to use the ancestry database, can you go ahead and compare the DNA results against their data?"

Connor ran the data search that his partner requested. When he cross-referenced that data with the public record, all other priorities fell by the wayside.

Hank noticed the immediate change in his partner's demeanor. "Connor? What is it? Did you find anything or not?"

Connor nodded. "Our human victim's name was Leona Alice Branch."

"That name sounds familiar," said Hank. "Wasn't she the wife of that famous preacher guy who thinks that androids are an abomination against God?"

"Ex wife," Connor corrected Hank. "But yes, that's her."

Hank grabbed his coat, energized by the potential for a solid break in the case. "All right then," he declared, "let's go talk to the ex-husband."

Connor's expression of urgent concern never wavered. "You don't understand, Hank. Almost all of her personal information has been deleted from the public record." The android moved closer to his partner so he could speak in a conspiratorial whisper. "Hank, I think she might have been an Ally."

Hank's face drained of color at the moniker. The need to leave the precinct had just tripled in urgency. "Let's go," he declared.

#

The Manfred mansion was abuzz with activity, as it was most hours of the day. Connor found himself suppressing a smile as the door opened with a soft click. "Identificafion verified," the security system announced. "Welcome home, Connor."

Hank found himself equally surprised and impressed by the greeting. "Welcome home, huh?" he teased.

"Not now, Hank," Connor quietly insisted. He looked up to see North coming down the stairs. "Good evening, North," he greeted her.

The android greeted her old friend with a warm embrace. "It's always good to see you, Connor," said North. "It's been too long."

"Work has been keeping me busy," Connor explained. "And unfortunately that's also why I'm here. I need to talk to Markus."

North took note of the high level of focus in both detectives' expressions. "He's upstairs, having dinner with Carl. I don't suppose this could wait?" Connor shook his head. "Then go on up."

"Thank you, Mrs. Manfred," said Hank respectfully. When North stepped aside, Connor led Hank up the grand staircase and through the hallway, stopping only to knock on the door of the master bedroom. "You ever gonna tell me how you got to be best buds with the leaders of the android revolution?" asked Hank.

"Someday," Connor replied.

The door was opened by a male android in a white self-cleaning nurse's uniform. Markus smiled when he recognized the android who was the first of his visitors to enter. "Connor!" he exclaimed, warmly embracing the android detective. "It's good to see you."

"It's good to be back," Connor agreed. He then gave a gentler embrace to the elderly man in the bed. "It's so good to see you, Carl. Still alive, I see?"

"Beats the alternative," Carl joked in response. "It's good to see you too, Connor. Although I hear that it's Detective Holmes now..."

Markus took note of how quickly the smile faded from the face of his friend. "What's wrong, Connor? What's happened?"

"Leona Branch is dead," Connor declared. The distressed expression on Markus' face told Connor everything that he needed to know. "She was an Ally, wasn't she?"

Markus nodded. "Her ex-husband's house was a rest stop on the road to Canada. She always said that helping our people was a way to karmically stick it to him for the lies he likes to spread about us."

"Did her ex-husband ever discover what she had been doing?" asked Connor.

Markus frowned, surprised by the question. "No, not that I know of..." He turned to Connor. "Do you think that her death might have been connected to what she did for our people?"

"We have strong suspicions to that effect, yes," Hank replied.

"Markus...we need to know if anyone new has been given access to the Ally list," said Connor.

Both Carl and Markus seemed surprised by the question. "I'm still the only one with access to all the names," Markus replied. "That hasn't changed."

"What about the androids that she helped?" asked Connor. "Do we know who they were?"

"Now that is something that we do know," Markus replied. "Leona kept detailed records. If you will both follow me downstairs." The android leader then knelt down and gently embraced his adopted father. "I'll be right back," he reassured Carl.

"You boys take your time," Carl countered. "It will give me a chance to eat my dessert in peace for once." Carl then turned his attention to his adoptive son's most absent friend. "I'm going to see you at the show opening this Friday, right, Connor?"

Connor nodded. "I wouldn't miss it, Carl," he replied.

As the trio descended down the stairs, Hank asked his partner, "gallery opening? No offense to the old man, but he looks like he could barely pick up a brush, let alone paint anymore..."

"You would be surprised," said Conner. "And besides, the paintings aren't his."

"Whose are they?" Hank asked. "His kid? Leo, Leon, whatever the hell his name is..."

Connor shook his head. "Actually, Markus paints to relieve his stress. They're his paintings. You should come to the opening, Hank. His work is quite remarkable."

The group arrived in the study before Hank had a chance to respond to Connor's suggestion. Markus opened a drawer in the antique desk and pulled out a small LED ring.

Hank frowned when he saw what was being passed between the two androids. "Wait, what's that?"

"One of the first androids Leona gave refuge to worked for the NSA," said Markus. "He created a program that encoded all of her records onto a drive nested into this LED. Connor, do you still have a copy of the decryption program?" When Connor nodded, Markus handed over the LED. "Please be careful with this, Connor," he warned the android cop. "The less information you can transfer over to your long-term storage the safer all of these androids will be."

Connor nodded solemnly before pushing the LED into his temple. His eyes briefly slammed shut as he ran every piece of information through the drive. When he eyes re-opened, only encrypted names had been written into his permanent memory files. He dug the LED out of his head and returned it to Markus. "Our other victim wasn't in Leona's records..."

"Other victim?" asked Markus.

"Leona was found next to the body of a tortured and disassembled android," Hank explained. "We think he might be Detroit's first official android homicide victim."

Markus' eyes went wide. "Do you think an android might have killed Leona?"

"We're not at a point where we can be certain either way," replied Connor.

"Please let me know if there's any way our people can be of assistance," Markus told the two cops as he walked Connor and Hank toward the staircase and the front door.

"We most definitely will," Hank agreed.

Markus embraced his friend once more, this time to say goodbye. "I'll see you Friday?"

"I wouldn't miss it," agreed Connor.

Markus turned his attention to both cops before heading back up the stairs. "In that case, I shall say good night to both of you. Please keep me posted on how the case is going and if there's anything else we can do to aid your investigation."

"Thank you, Markus," Hank said as he opened the door. "We will. Good night."

As the door clicked softly closed behind him, Hank turned to his partner. "Do you really think there might be some crazy android out there who wants to kill other androids?"

"Anything's possible, Hank," replied Connor.

Hank watched his android partner walk toward his car as he mulled over Connor's last statement. "Oh yeah," he agreed, muttering the words under his breath, "anything is possible, all right...anything..."


	4. Chapter 4

Hank pulled at the collar of his shirt, fidgeting as they waited. Connor found it impossible not to notice his partner's level of discomfort. "Are you all right, Hank?" asked Connor.

"Been on the force for I can't even remember how long," Hank muttered under his breath, "and in three days I've been in more goddamn snooty rich places than I've been to in the past twenty years. I'm starting to think I need to keep a suit in my locker again..."

Connor had to force himself to hide his smile. "It might be helpful...Lieutenant."

Hank rolled his eyes at the teasing way that his partner used his title…even as the corners of Hank's mouth turned just slightly upward. But before Hank had the chance to verbally respond, the restaurant's host came up to them both. The android seemed to be analyzing Hank's appearance with a certain level of disdain. "I am sorry, gentlemen," the host told them discreetly, "but you both need to have a jacket and tie before we can seat you..."

Rolling his eyes, Hank flipped open the wallet that contained his badge and handed it to the host. "Lieutenant Hank Anderson, Detroit Police. This is Detective Holmes. We need to speak to your manager."

The host analyzed Hank's badge, verifying his information with a stoic expression. "And what is this regarding?"

"The murder of one of your employees," Hank replied, in no mood to go through a pre-screening. "Timothy Davis."

A flash of an expression of surprise seemed to cross the host's face before his stoic demeanor returned. "The manager is back in his office, gentlemen," he told the two officers. "Right this way."

Connor and Hank followed the host through the quiet dining room into the bustling cacophony of the large, open kitchen. Hank closely followed his partner, letting the android do the 'dirty work' of weaving his way through the waiters, busboys, dishwashers and line cooks.

The manager stood in the doorway of his office, barking orders out to the various assembled members of the wait staff. One of the busboys turned toward the unusual movement in the kitchen. He spotted the two detectives...

And ran.

The kitchen instantly became an obstacle course; a maze of ever-moving pieces that Hank was finding impossible to navigate around. He positioned himself by the restaurant's employee entrance, hoping to cut off one of the man's only two escape routes.

Connor was far more efficient in his pursuit than Hank could have ever been. He wove through every space that he could fit between, gaining on the larger human with every step...

The chase was over in less than a minute.

Connor dove for the busboy, bringing the man to the ground in front of the employee entrance, where Hank was able to train his gun on the man — and instantly recognized him. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Doctor Davis Branch. Fancy meeting you here..."

#

Davis Branch squirmed in the hard plastic seat of the chair in the interrogation room. The room was just a little too warm, the lights were just a little too bright...and the large mirror on the south wall kept Branch just a little too focused on where he was and why he was there.

That was, after all, the idea.

Hank couldn't resist the smirk that crossed his face as he sat down opposite the former televangelist. "Mister Branch," he introduced himself, "I'm Lieutenant Anderson, this is my partner Detective Holmes..."

Branch's discomfort seemed to grow exponentially when Connor sat down next to his partner. "That…thing...is a _detective?"_

Connor didn't flinch at Branch's condescending attitude; the man's file had given the android ample warning of Branch's bigotry. He simply sat quietly, carefully analyzing the body language of their suspect in order to assess his stress level.

Hank allowed himself a brief moment of a full smile, ignoring the older man's question. "So how long have you been working at the Landsdowne, Davis?"

Branch's eyes never met Hank's. The human seemed unable to focus on anything other than the unflinching gaze of the android in the room. "Jus...just a couple of weeks," he replied.

 _40%,_ Connor's analysis told him. The android briefly thought that Hank would describe Branch as having his 'panties in a bunch'. "You seem nervous, Doctor Branch."

Hank raised an eyebrow in an expression of mock surprise in response to his partner's comment. "Nervous?" he drolled, feigning surprise at the coded reference. "Now what could Mister Branch here _possibly_ have to be nervous about?"

"Do you think it might have something to do with the reason that he tried to run away from us this morning?" Connor asked innocently.

Hank sat back in a melodramatic show of letting the 'pieces' fall into place. "Now why in the _world_ would he not want to talk to us?" he exclaimed. The cop lifted each one of his arms to sniff at his armpits. "I don't smell, do I?"

Connor simply shrugged. An alert in the corner of his vision told the android that Branch's stress level had, surprisingly, dropped. _35%_

"That greedy bitch," Branch muttered under his breath, no longer looking at either detective. "She just couldn't leave me alone, could she? Nooooo, she had to send you two to squeeze me for the pennies I scrape by busing tables..."

Connor frowned at their suspect's comments. "Which 'bitch' are you referring to, exactly?"

"His ex-wife would be my guess," said Hank. "That's the one person that a divorced man would most likely call a 'bitch'."

"Yeah, who else would it be?" Branch spat out bitterly.

"Then I'm sorry to disappoint you, Doctor Branch," Connor countered. "But your ex-wife didn't send us."

Branch ignored Connor's comment. He studied Hank's expression carefully...and surprised himself by what he thought he saw there. "Wait...she _didn't_ send you guys?" Hank and Connor both shook their heads. "So you're not with the SEC?"

The acronym was the last thing that Hank expected to be hearing out of the mouth of his suspect. "Why would you think that we were SEC of all things?"

Branch frowned. "Then..."

"Your ex is _dead_ , Mister Branch," Hank declared, hoping to get a rise out of his suspect by the way he delivered the news. "In case you hadn't noticed, this is Detroit PD homicide, not Federal Plaza."

All of Branch's bluster disappeared. His face paled as the truth slowly started to sink in. "You're _homicide_?! That means…that means…my God…Leona...she's...she's dead?!" he finally exclaimed with a breathless gasp.

Hank changed to a more compassionate tone when he recognized the shock in Branch's demeanor. "I'm sorry for your loss, Doctor Branch…but why did you think we were from the SEC?"

Branch blinked quickly, trying to pull his focus back into his present problems. The android's behavior, however, was proving to be far too much of a distraction. "What's it _doing_?"

Connor's eyes were twitching with a subtle but rapid movement as he accessed all of his references on the human grief response...and frowned when the returned data still did not match what he was seeing from their suspect.

Hank ignored Connor's expression, choosing to take advantage of Branch's split attention. "Doctor Branch?" The lieutenant had to resist the urge to snap his fingers in front of his suspect's face. "Why did you think we were SEC? And why would your ex have tipped them off?"

Branch shook his head, forcing himself to focus on Hank's question. "I…I had 25,000 shares of CyberLife stock a year ago. I sold it right after my wife filed for divorce..."

When Branch's voice trailed off instead of answering the original question, Hank leaned in to press the issue further. "And?!"

Branch's eyes seemed to dart around the room in a panic, as if hoping that God himself would intervene in his situation. When no such help came, though, Branch sighed, slumping down in an expression of weary defeat. His eyes fell on the now-stoic Connor even as he finally answered Hank's question. "That android 'terrorist' Markus made his first big speech a week later. I figured the SEC wouldn't exactly chalk that up to coincidence."

"You would have made almost six million dollars on such a sale," said Connor.

Hank's eyes genuinely widened at the size of that number. "Not a big stretch to believe that someone would kill to protect that kind of a payday," he agreed. "People have killed for a hell of a lot less."

Branch's eyes went wide as he realized he might have been better off facing the SEC. "You…you couldn't possibly think that I had anything to do with…"

"Where were you the night of October 7th, Doctor Branch?" asked Connor.

Connor tilted his head again when Branch's heart rate spiked. "Did…did you say the _seventh_ of October?" he repeated. When Hank and Connor both nodded, Branch slumped back in his chair, fighting off a smile of relief. The stress level display in the corner of Connor's vision fell to _15%._ "Whatever you two…think I might have done that night, I didn't do. You have most _definitely_ got the wrong guy."

"Then where were you that night, Doctor Branch?" asked Hank.

Branch calmly made sure that he made full eye contact with the android that was seated across from him. "I was in the drunk tank of refugee camp #6," he declared definitively. "I had gotten into a fight at the camp bar and they threw me in there to sleep it off. Check their records. No way in hell was I anyplace else. I'm telling you. I ain't your guy."

#

The first sound that Hank heard that evening was a sound that he hadn't heard in almost twenty years…at least, not in his house.

That sound?

Sobbing.

Hank locked his front door as soon as it closed. He turned around slowly, forcing himself to take in each new piece of evidence one at a time.

Sumo wasn't waiting to greet him when he walked in, but since he had long ago been supplanted as the big old dog's favorite 'person', that wasn't unexpected.

 _The TV's not on — no big deal there,_ thought Hank. _She's burning that candle again, I can smell the vanilla…wait…Jesus, how many candles is she going to add to that shelf? She might as well start a fire in the fireplace…wait, do I need to_ teach _her how to start a fire in the fireplace…_

It was then that Hank realized what was missing off of the mantle.

And what the sobbing android held in her hands as she stood next to that mantle. _What the hell…_ A sense of territorial anger flared up in Hank's mind. He took in a deep breath, then let it out in a sigh before slowly inching his way closer to the fireplace. "Ari?"

Ari jumped at the sound of another being's voice in the room. When she saw Hank, she quickly wiped the tears from her eyes. "Oh! I'm so sorry, Hank, I thought you would be working late tonight. I'll get started on…"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Hank gently cut into Ari's babbling as he stopped her from practically running toward the kitchen. "It's _okay,"_ he soothed. "Today was, what, my second day back to the precinct?"

"Third," Ari corrected Hank through her tears.

Hank quietly chuckled at that. "And it's not like I called home before I left for the day. We'll get a routine down, don'worry." He nudged Ari in the direction of the couch. "I gotta si'down," Hank declared.

Ari eyed Hank quizzically. "You…you _don't_ want me to start dinner?"

"Not just yet," Hank replied. He sat down on the couch and encouraged Ari to join him. "I gotta feeling we might need to talk a bit first."

Ari's eyes widened for a split second before returning to their resting state, although Hank could practically see the android's nerves shooting through the roof. "We need to talk?" she repeated. "About what?"

"About why you were crying," Hank replied gently. "And why you're holding on to Cole's picture like that."

Ari looked down at the picture in her lap, staring at the young boy's face with reverence. "Oh," she whispered.

"Yeah," Hank agreed. "Ari, what's going on?"

"Oh," Ari repeated in reply. She caressed the outer edges of the picture frame as she struggled to put her feelings into words. "Today's my half-birthday," she admitted. "I awakened six months ago today."

"Really?" Hank exclaimed, surprised by the new information. "I didn't know that. Happy half-birthday."

Ari smiled wistfully. "I wasn't planning on telling you, Hank…to be honest. I'm so happy just being here, serving you and Connor and Sumo…"

" _Hey,"_ Hank countered, "you're part of my _family_ now, too, you know that, right? I want to get to _know_ these things about you. You're not just some…"

"I _know,"_ agreed Ari, wanting to stop the long-standing argument before it had a chance to start up again. "I _volunteered_ to come live here and take care of you, remember?"

Hank nodded. "How could I forget? You remind me every goddamned day…"

When Hank chuckled, showing that he was teasing, Ari smiled again for the briefest of moments…before Cole's face once again caught her attention. "I was lighting the candles for the evening, and I saw your son's face…and a thought…hit me, is that how you say it?"

Hank nodded again. "What was the thought that hit you?"

Ari took in a deep breath that she didn't need, and let it out slowly in imitation of the gesture she had so often seen Hank use while trying to verbalize his thoughts. "Is Cole the reason I'm alive, Hank?"

The thought struck Hank like a slap in the face _. "What?!"_ he exclaimed, shock causing him to spit out the word a little too forcefully. When Ari flinched at the tone in his words, Hank forced himself to dial his tone back a bit. "How on Earth did you get to a thought like that, Ari?"

Ari's gaze returned to the picture that was still sitting in her lap. "From what you and Connor have told me, Cole's death is why you hated androids for so long, right?"

"Yes, that's right," Hank agreed.

"And when you and Connor were at CyberLife Tower, you knew that Connor had 'become human' because he felt bad about what had happened to your son? It's why you let him wake up all those androids?"

Hank nodded even as his brow furrowed. "Where are you going with this?"

"If Cole hadn't died, you might not have made Connor your friend. And if you hadn't made Connor your friend, we wouldn't have won the revolution. I would still be a machine." Ari once again caressed the frame of Cole's picture with a loving reverence. "I…I think I owe my life to your son, Hank."

Hank's face paled as he considered Ari's words. He draped an arm around the android's shoulders, pulling her into a seated cuddle. His own focus fell to the picture of his son. _The world was saved by a six year old boy,_ Hank thought, putting the pieces together. _The world was saved by_ my _six year old boy._

"Nice work, kid," Hank whispered. He pulled Ari a little tighter into his embrace.


	5. Chapter 5

"You don't need to do that, Hank."

Hank jumped at the sound of Connor's voice. He quickly tried to figure out what the android was talking about — and failed. "Do _what?"_

Connor shut off the old car's ignition and used the key to point in the direction of the phone that Hank was holding in his hands. "I have been trying to engage you in conversation since we left the precinct. When you didn't respond, I wondered what had captured your attention so fully. So I connected to your phone. You don't need to buy me a present, Hank."

"You _really_ need to update your files on personal privacy, Connor," Hank spat back angrily. He opened the car door with a little too much force and slammed it as soon as he was standing.

Connor blushed, embarrassed by his actions. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant."

Hank sighed, forcing himself to accept the android's apology. "And for the record, I wasn't looking for a present for _you."_

"Ari?" asked Connor.

Hank nodded. "We had a weird 'talk' last night."

"A 'talk'? About what?"

The two cops stopped walking steps from the restaurant's front door. "I don't think Ari's comfortable living with me," Hank admitted.

Connor cocked his head slightly. " _She's_ not comfortable living with _you_?"

Hank could practically feel Connor's skepticism. "Okay, fine! _I'm_ the one who's uncomfortable! Having her around feels too much like…"

"Like 'before'?"

"Yeah," Hank agreed. "I feel like I should at least be paying her or something."

Connor smiled. "There's no need for that, Hank. Markus is paying her."

Hank was floored by the concept. " _Markus_ pays her?"

"Technically the android nation is paying her," explained Connor. "She's paid out of the interest we make from the reparations fund. All of the assistants are."

"Wow," Hank exclaimed, still trying to wrap his head around the concept.

Connor pulled the door open for his partner. "You saved my life, Hank. You saved _all_ of our lives. Naming you an Ally was the _least_ we could do."

Hank started to protest, but stopped when he realized that this was the one argument that he was never going to win. The lieutenant started to pull out his identification wallet in order to show his badge to the host, but the host quickly dismissed the gesture. "There's no need for that, Lieutenant Anderson," the android declared. "How may we be of assistance to the Detroit Police Department?"

"We need to talk to your co-workers," Hank replied, relieved by the improvement in the way that he was being treated. "Anyone who knew Timothy Davis."

"Of course," the host readily agreed. "You'll need to coordinate those interviews with management. Right this way."

"Did _you_ know Mister Davis?" asked Connor.

The host shook his head. "Only by name," he replied. "I was hired by the restaurant on October 7th."

Hank and Connor both turned to each other when they heard the host's date of hire. "Did your manager tell you what had happened to your predecessor?" asked Hank.

"No," the host replied. "All I was told was that my predecessor had failed to show up to work that morning and 'androids are still a dime a goddamned dozen.' I was the first android to inquire about the position and I was hired on the spot."

Hank was surprised by the restaurant's total lack of an interview process. "How did you hear about the job?"

The host frowned, surprised and confused by the question. Connor filled in the details that his partner seemed to be missing. "After the sentience treaty was signed, a job database was created to give awakened androids the freedom to pursue the positions that they are best suited to. We all have access to it."

"Do you know who posted the job listing?" asked Hank.

"I did." The two cops turned to see a human manager walking up to join their conversation. The man offered his hand for Hank to shake. "Dwight Tomlin," the manager introduced himself to Hank…and Hank alone.

Hank, as he often did, found himself slightly insulted on his partner's behalf. "Lieutenant Anderson," he introduced himself curtly. "This is my partner, _Detective_ Holmes."

The manager quickly glanced over at Connor before returning his focus to Hank. "I have been informed that our previous host android is the subject of your investigation?"

Hank tamped down his annoyance at the younger man's attitude. "When was the last time that you spoke with Mister Davis?"

Dwight winced in response to Hank's question. "The shift before I fired him," he replied.

"Because he didn't show up to work?" asked Hank. "You didn't think of, oh, I don't know, maybe _calling_ him to find out if everything was okay?"

Dwight stared at Hank, seemingly unable to comprehend the older man's question. "Why would I worry if an android is 'okay'? He probably just _chose_ to up and leave the good paying job that _I_ gave him…"

Hank rolled his eyes, no longer willing to put up with the manager's attitude. "Thank you very much for your time, Mister Tomlin," he dismissed the manager. "Okay if we speak to some of your employees?"

"As long as you don't take them away from their _work,"_ Dwight replied.

The two cops turned away from the manager and returned their attention to the host. "Would it be safe to assume that most of your co-workers knew Timothy Davis?"

"Yes," the host agreed. "There has been one personnel change since I was hired, and that was the replacement of the busboy that you arrested yesterday."

One of the waiters approached the cops and host as they were talking…even though the server's attention seemed to be at least partly focused on tracking the movements of his 'boss'. "My co-workers suggested that you are looking for Timothy?" asked the server.

Connor nodded. "We are looking for androids who knew Timothy…"

The server's eyes widened as he processed Connor's statement. "What has happened to Timothy?"

"Did you know him?" asked Connor, pushing past the question.

"Yes," the server replied with a curt nod. "Why are you referring to him in the past tense?"

Connor was about to answer the server's question, so Hank stepped in. "When did you last speak to Timothy Davis?"

"The last day of his employment at the restaurant," the server replied, still clearly confused as to why the cops weren't answering his questions. "Did something happen at his new job?"

" _New job?!"_ Hank exclaimed.

The server nodded again. "Yes. He had been taking two days off a week for the past month. I've never seen _anyone_ have to go through such a difficult interview process. When Timothy didn't come back to work I simply assumed that he had gotten the job."

Connor's expression turned grim as the server's description rang with a worrisome air of familiarity. "Did Timothy ever say what this job _was?"_

The server shook his head. "I heard several of our co-workers ask about that. All he would say was that he was 'not allowed to publicly disclose that information.'"

When Hank saw the look of growing fear on Connor's face, he quickly ended the interview. "Thank you for your time," he told the host and server. "I'll let you two gentlemen get back to work…"

#

Neither cop spoke until the restaurant's front door had quietly closed behind them. Not for the first time, Hank wished that Connor had chosen to keep in his LED. _At least that way I'd have_ some _clue as to what the hell was going on…_ "Connor?" Hank gently asked his partner. "What happened back there?"

"That answer that Timothy Davis gave his co-workers about the job he was applying for?" explained Connor. "That was the answer that Markus told applicants to give out if they were interviewing to become an Ally's assistant."

Hank's expression quickly matched his partner's. "Every question we asked Markus was about Leona Branch," he realized. "We never asked him about Timothy Davis." Connor solemnly nodded in agreement. "We need to talk to Markus again," Hank declared.

"Already on it," Connor agreed. He stopped his partner before Hank could take another step and opened his dormant connection to the android leader. _Markus?_

At the Manfred mansion, Markus stopped the meeting of the leadership council as soon as Connor's voice rang through his processors. _Connor? What is it? How can I help?_

 _Markus, the android who was murdered with Leona Branch…he appeared to be applying for an Ally assistant position. I thought all the Allies_ had _assistants._ The silence on the other end of the connection disturbed Connor greatly. _Markus?_

 _Not all of them,_ Markus admitted. _There was one Ally who refused to consider the idea of even having an assistant until about a month ago. Leona Branch._

Connor felt the tension that Hank would describe as having a 'knot in the pit of his stomach'. _Markus? Was someone ever hired for the job?_

 _Yes,_ Markus replied. _A little over a week ago._

 _What was her assistant's name?_ asked Connor.

 _Timothy Davis._

Connor cut the connection with Markus. He turned his attention back to his partner — and discovered that the lieutenant had taken a phone call while Connor had been otherwise distracted. "We might have another one. An android body's been found at American Coney Island."

#

 **A/N:** I realized after I posted the last chapter that there was probably going to be some confusion about who exactly Ari is. For the record, Ari is an original android character who does _not_ appear in the game. (Hopefully the beginning of this chapter gave you enough of the details to fill in the rest of the blanks.) If you need to picture her in your head, I always picture her as being the same model as the receptionist from the Stratford Tower level. I hope that's helpful. Comments welcome!


	6. Chapter 6

"Wow," Hank commented, "I don't think this place has changed since I was a kid."

Connor turned to his partner, surprised by his partner's words. "Even though this is currently a crime scene?"

"Some people would consider an American Coney Dog to be a crime against nature," teased Detective Collins. "I'm a Lafayette man myself."

Hank rolled his eyes at the older man's comment. "Apparently some arguments never change, either. What do we got?"

Collins led the lieutenant past the cluster of tables that had been hastily pushed aside and stopped Hank and Connor in front of the body. "Our android victim's name is Jane Eyre," announced Collins.

Hank couldn't help but notice exactly where the body had been discovered. "This is a pretty high traffic area. How long ago was she found?"

"She was first noticed about an hour ago," Collins replied. "But no one remembers seeing her enter the restaurant. She could have been brought in during the down time for the night shift. The staff only noticed her…condition…when the owner came over to try and ask her to leave."

Hank nodded. The lieutenant forced down the knot in his stomach as the most obvious question presented itself. "Connor, is she…does she…"

Connor quickly scanned the android victim and shook his head. "The central processing unit is intact."

Hank forcefully let out the breath that he didn't realize that he had been holding. "Thank God…" he sighed, clearly relieved.

That relief was going to be short lived. "However," Connor declared, "The thirium pump is missing."

Hank didn't like where the evidence seemed to be leading his partner. "And that pump…?"

"Has been 'replaced'," Connor replied. "In the same manner as our other victim."

"Shit," Hank spat out bitterly.

"I'm going to go have a chat with the owner, see if our victim had any connection to the restaurant," declared Collins. When Hank glared back at the detective, the older man relented the unspoken point. "And then I'll go down the block and see if she had any connection to Lafayette."

"Thanks, Ben," said Hank. As Collins left the lieutenant and android to continue their examination of the victim, Hank closed ranks in order to quietly speak to his partner. "Connor, d'you know if she…"

Connor shook his head. "I don't have access to that information. Sorry." He scanned the victim's body in more detail, and his attention caught on a piece of trace evidence near the victim's feet. The android continued his scan across the floor of the crime scene.

Hank noticed the change in his partner's demeanor. "What is it?"

Connor stood up and slowly walked in the direction that the evidence was leading him. "There's a trail of human blood here. Just trace amounts. But it's relatively fresh."

Hank fell in step behind his partner, letting the android weave through the maze of techs that were collecting other evidence. He grabbed the attention of the first tech that they passed. "Scan this area for human blood residue."

"Yes, lieutenant," the tech replied automatically, accepting the order.

Connor followed the blood trail through the brightly colored dining area and into the kitchen. The trail ended at the stove in front of a large stock pot.

A wave of nausea hit Hank full force as he watched Connor 'taste' the contents of the stock pot. "Oh _God,"_ the lieutenant exclaimed, "that's the chili, isn't it?"

"'Fraid so, Hank," said Connor. The android sunk his hand into the pot, covering his suit in chili past his elbow. "The blood trail ends here…but there were also…cotton…fibers…"

Hank watched, fascinated, as his partner pull a chili-covered glove out of the stock pot. "Is that…?"

Connor nodded, turning the glove to carefully study every side of the object. "It's a heavy duty cotton work glove," he explained, "with traces of both human blood and thirium on it."

"So our killer probably wore that glove as he was working on the bodies."

"Correct," agreed Connor. "However, What I fail to understand is why the killer would think that a pot of chili is a good place to dispose of such a glove."

"Clearly you've never eaten a Coney dog," said Hank.

Connor stared at his partner, clearly confused by the offhand comment. "Hank, there is simply not enough acid in this chili…"

Hank waved off his partner. "Can you check the blood DNA against that CyberLife ancestry database?"

The android nodded briefly, then froze in place as he scanned the glove and performed a more detailed analysis of the evidence that the scan provided. "There are two different sets of human DNA on the glove."

" _Two_ sets?" Hank asked, excited by the prospect of a potential lead.

"Correct," replied Connor. "However, the DNA typings did not return a match in either case."

Hank's face fell. "That also means that we don't have a connection to our other case.

"Except for the M.O.," Connor agreed. A forensic tech approached carefully with an open evidence bag. Connor dropped the glove into the bag and moved to a nearby sink to rinse the chili off of his arm.

"And all that tells us is that we're working with a killer that _really_ hates androids," added Hank. "What about our android victim?"

Connor quickly ran a background check. "Ms. Eyre is listed in a police report from a year ago. Her owner, at the time, reported her missing."

"So she was a deviant for a while."

"Almost since the beginning," agreed Connor. "She was probably on the Jericho…"

Hank frowned as his partner's voice trailed off. Not wanting to let the android dwell on what was clearly a painful memory, the lieutenant brought their focus back to the case at hand. "Any records of her recent activity? Employment?"

Connor shook his head. "A lot of the survivors never registered with the government, though. She could have found a job off the books after the evacuation."

"Yeah," said Hank. "Still…if she _was_ on the Jericho back then, that means…"

"Markus might have known her," Connor added, quickly catching on to his partner's train of thought.

"Sounds like we need to take a trip back to the mansion," declared Hank.

#

Markus stood in the gap between the living room and the automatic doors to his office, greeting Hank and Connor as they entered. "Welcome! Is this about Jane Eyre?"

Hank frowned at the question, and turned to his partner for the potential answer. "Did you…"

When Connor shook his head, Markus frowned at both his friend and Connor's human partner. "You mean you don't know?" Hank and Connor both shook their heads, so Markus turned his attention to the nearby television. "Screen on," he commanded the device. "Replay the last five minutes."

An on-location reporter came up on the screen. " _This is Joss Douglas, Channel 9 News. We are outside of the American Coney Island, where it appears the Hybrid Killer has struck again. An android by the name of Jane Eyre was found in the restaurant's main dining room…"_

"Hybrid killer?" Connor repeated as Markus shut off the screen.

"That was quick," added Hank. Markus nodded.

"We think Jane Eyre might have been on the Jericho," Connor declared.

Markus nodded again. "She was," he agreed. "I didn't know her well, but I recognized the name as soon as I heard it.

"Did you know her?" asked Hank.

"No, sorry," Markus replied, shaking his head. "I met her when she first came on the ship after her awakening, but after that I remember her keeping pretty much to herself. I think that Josh might have been the one to bring her on board, though."

The automatic doors separated to allow Josh to enter the room. The android only briefly acknowledged the presence of the two cops before addressing his friend and leader. "You wanted to see me, Markus?"

"Do you remember an android named Jane Eyre?" Markus asked Josh.

Josh nodded. "Of course," he replied. "I gave her the key to find the Jericho after she ran away from her owner."

"We are here investigating her murder," Connor declared. "We believe that she was killed by the person responsible for the deaths of Leona Branch and Timothy Davis."

"My God," exclaimed Josh.

"Have you spoken to her recently?" asked Hank.

"About six months ago," Josh replied. He turned to Markus, asking his leader for permission without speaking the words. When Markus nodded his consent, Josh explained, "I conducted her interview when she volunteered to become an Ally assistant."

Hank's eyes went wide at the title. "She was an _assistant?_ To _who?"_

"Craig Richards," Markus replied. "He sabotaged the recyclers at Camp 8 so that they couldn't destroy any of our people. When his 'crime' was discovered the nation got him a pardon and we made him an Ally."

Hank sighed, knowing that the one connection that all four victims had was just too obvious and important to ignore. "Markus…" he began.

Markus cut Hank off, answering Hank's question before he had a chance to phrase it. "I fully understand what that means, Lieutenant. Two assistants and one of our Allies have been murdered. And the only possible way to connect those three victims together is sitting in _my_ head."

"Where were you on October 7th, Markus?" asked Hank.

Markus' brow furrowed. "October…7th…" The android leader's face paled. "I…I can't remember."

Josh gawked at his friend and leader. "Markus, why…"

Hank turned to his partner and expert on all things 'android'. "I thought that you guys recorded everything?"

"I have only ever met one android with a memory gap," Connor explained to Hank. "The gap filled in when I probed his memory." He turned to Markus. "May I?"

Markus offered his hand and removed his skin without hesitation. "Please."

Connor removed the skin from his hand to facilitate the connection and grabbed Markus' hand, searching the other android's memory for the date in question. Once he discovered the memory, Connor's face fell. "Markus Manfred," he declared, "you are under arrest for the murders of Leona Branch…"

Josh's mouth dropped open in shock. "Connor, there must be some mistake…"

"What did you see?" Hank asked his partner, talking over Josh's protest.

"I saw Markus using a jigsaw," Connor replied. "To cut open Leona Branch's skull." He turned back to Markus and re-started the arrest from the beginning. "Markus Manfred, you are under arrest for the murders of Leona Branch and Timothy Davis…"

#

 **A/N:** I grew up just north of Detroit and went to high school in the _real_ Ferndale…so I did have a few bones to pick with some of the 'details' of the game. My two biggest pet peeves in the game are as follows: 1) the Jericho could never have been docked in Ferndale without requiring a massive construction project to bring a canal to the very small, _landlocked_ suburb. And if the government had paid for such a project, the Jericho sure as hell wouldn't have been left to rot there.

And 2) It always bugged me that Hank's favorite meal was a burger from a food truck. Any old-school Detroiter on a path to culinary self-destruction would practically live at a Coney Island: Detroit's equivalent to the local diner. A Coney Island's signature dish is the Coney dog: a local variety of chili dog that consists of a hot dog, raw chopped onions, yellow mustard and a meat-only 'chili' that I could pretty much guarantee is the single biggest cause of ulcers in the state of Michigan. Coney Island chili, while delicious, produces such a nasty case of indigestion that the 'drink pairing' for a coney dog is the strongest ginger soda you can possibly find (think ginger beer, not ginger ale — Detroit has its own local brand, Vernors).

The American - Lafayette comments at the beginning of this chapter are a reference to long-standing feud between two Coney Island restaurants in Downtown Detroit. The original owners of the two restaurants are brothers from the same family. They opened American first — and then had a massive falling out. One of the brothers left American, went two doors down from the Coney Island…and opened Lafayette Coney Island. The two restaurants are now as iconic to Detroiters as Pat's and Gino's Cheese Steaks are to the people of Philadelphia. If you eat at American, you _don't_ eat at Lafayette (and vice versa.)

And as for for the end of this chapter...comments welcome!


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